Drowning in the Darkness
by EstelRaca
Summary: When Joe and Marvelous agree to go to a small town on a recently-liberated planet, they find more than they could have predicted. Joe, injured and alone, refuses to abandon his captain, though, even if that might be the smart thing to do. Written for Kazuraba-Kouta's End of Gaim Tokusatsu Songfic Giveaway. Marvelous/Joe, post-series.


**Author's Note:** This was written for Kazuraba-Kouta's End of Gaim Tokusatsu Songfic Giveaway. Vague spoilers for Gokaiger (as if anyone really thought the Zangyack was going to win). This is a little different from the other songfics I've tried, integrating the song more and more piecemeal; it's also pretty shameless hurt-comfort. The song is "Ghost River" by Nightwish, and can be listened to here: watch?v=Iehcyj9m9e8

_Drowning in the Darkness_

_He will go down he will drown, drown, deeper down..._

"Oh no." Joe's body instinctively backs up, curling deeper into the corner that has been his refuge for the last twenty seconds. It isn't much of a refuge, all things considered, being just an empty kitchen corner of one of the low-slung houses that make up this village, but it has given him a place to sit and time to put pressure on his shoulder. He needs to take at least three minutes to stop the bleeding and bind the arm if he doesn't want to pass out. He's known that since the blow landed, almost ten minutes ago, a little clock in his head counting down the seconds.

_The mills grind slow in a riverbed ghost town..._

"I hate you, bird." He knows that bird isn't an accurate description of the creature that comes waddling into the room on six spindly legs. This one is covered in soft green fur striped and spotted with black tufts of feathers. From its head two fuzzy antenna protrude, and its body rumbles in time to the music that it is projecting.

He shouldn't blame the creature, really. It is simply doing what it has been trained to do. It is bringing the most popular song on the continent to the people in its house. And if the only person currently in its house is an alien who _despises _the song it is playing—because the song should have been a warning, should have given him enough information to avoid what has happened, should have should have _should have—_

Joe bites down on his bottom lip until the faint tang of copper floods his mouth. Then he sets about wrapping his shoulder, which is no longer gushing blood but instead just oozing sluggishly. As long as he can find clean water—nothing dark colored, nothing like the black ooze that swarmed over Marvelous as though it were _alive_ and gave back—

_If you want me then do come across!_

"_Stop._" The word is half-command, half-plea, and though it causes the Pomeranian-sized creature to back away with a startled _meep_ it doesn't interrupt the music at all.

What had been the word in the native tongue that made the things stop playing music? Joe can't remember, and he knows there is absolutely no way in all the myriad underworlds ever imagined that he will remember the intricate series of pets that will change the station.

He could kill it. A small part of him, trained to be a soldier and a Zangyack, driven to abstraction and desperation by his current situation, makes the suggestion.

Except he can't, the larger, Sid and Marvelous trained portion of him knows. The creature is innocent. The singer and the song-writer and everyone other than those who lured him and Marvelous down to the spiraling river with its inky-black pool at the end are innocent.

And those who _aren't _innocent—

Joe grunts as he ties the bindings tighter, effectively immobilizing his shoulder.

_Those_ people are going to pay.

_Snow-white, pitch-black, your life such strife—_

Oh, no. Has this thing gotten stuck on repeat? Why is it back at the beginning of the song? Joe stares down at the creature in dismay. At least, given the ubiquity of the creatures and their tendency to start playing music whether or not someone is present, it shouldn't give him away. If anything, it will help disguise the noises that he makes.

As it is disguising the noises that other creatures make, and Joe throws himself to his feet just a bit too quickly as a hint of motion at the corner of his right eye draws his attention.

He doesn't fall on his face, at least. He manages to catch himself on his knees and his left-hand sword, his right arm not capable of holding a weapon right now let alone supporting his weight. It takes him too long to blink the stars from his eyes, though, and if the creature he spotted was an enemy he would be dead.

It isn't an enemy, though. Or at least he hopes that the child isn't. She's a young girl, seven, maybe eight, small and petite, with the dark brown skin and pointed ears that characterize this planet's population. Her pale eyes, one blue and one a soft green, peer at him nervously over the back of the living radio that she is clutching.

A radio that continues to play that damn song, but Joe can only gather up enough energy to heave a sigh as he studies it.

"Are you one of the Chosen?" The girl's voice is unsteady, high with nerves and fear. "You don't look like one of the Chosen—your eyes aren't all dark, and you were talking to Furfur—but Papa and the others said you were going to be Chosen..."

"Chosen." Joe forces his sluggish, oxygen and blood starved brain back into working order. "Is that what it's called when someone's pushed into that river?"

"Yes." The girl strokes the waddling radio under the chin, and the music dies back to a low background sound, at least. "That's what it was called when it happened to my brothers, at least. Maybe it's different for aliens."

Joe's blood runs cold, and he stares across at the child in dismay. "Your family did that to your _siblings_?"

_Believe it, we live as we scream—_the human voice is interrupted by another soft _meep_ as the child puts the radio-creature down.

"No." Shaking her head, the girl takes two hesitant steps toward Joe. "The Zangyack did. They did it to a lot of the kids on our planet. The first two to three children born to every family were turned into Chosen and taken off to fight for the Empire."

"Why..." But Joe knows, even as the question slides past his lip.

He has known since he watched Marvelous fall—be _pushed—_into the inky black water that churned as though it were alive. He has known since Marvelous stopped _screaming_ because the black inkiness was swallowing him whole and instead began screaming at Joe to get away, to run, to go far from the river.

He knew when the apologizing men fished Marvelous from the water and set him, black-eyed and docile, on the banks of the river.

He should have gotten Marvelous away from the men then. He was planning how he was going to do it—take out over a dozen lean, desperate people who were watching Marvelous like a choice hunk of meat and get a dazed Marvelous to run with him—when everything had fallen apart.

It shouldn't have taken him by surprise. He had known _something_ was wrong, with the situation and with Marvelous, but for Marvelous to take up a sword against him at the word of some stranger...

For Marvelous to _laugh_ as his blade bit into Joe's skin, as he sent the Mobirates that he had gifted Joe with skittering over the edge into that hateful black water...

"They don't know what they're doing." The girl's hand comes to rest tentatively on his bandaged shoulder. "They don't recognize anyone. They don't remember. They just follow simple orders and live for the next fight."

"Ah. I know." Joe opens his eyes, meeting the child's gaze. "The Zangyack called them their Beserkers. They would use them when they wanted to decimate a civilian population, break their morale. The Beserkers never hesitated to kill—male, female, young, old, fighter, pacifist. Once they were given a target, nothing short of death would stop them."

The girl nods, pulling her hand back and staring at the dark red glove his blood had made for it. "They follow the orders of the first person who talks to them after they're Chosen."

Joe draws a deep breath, nodding. That was why the men who took them to the river kept Joe from Marvelous' side at first. "And... the brainwashing... does it ever... can they..."

He needs to just ask the question. He needs to stop hedging, because his pursuers could find him at any moment.

The girl frowns, both hands disappearing behind her back for a moment. "Was red-jacket your _incrociaspade_?"

Joe blinks at the child. "My what?"

"Hmm... I don't really know what a Common word would be for it, since it doesn't translate on its own." The girl bites her lip. "It's something that they lose, being Chosen. Sort of like friends or like siblings or like parent bonds but between adult soldiers. When I try to ask Papa about it, he just says that he'll maybe explain when I'm older."

"Ah." Joe smiles, recognizing in that last bit at least some of what the word must mean. "If I understand right, then yes. He's the captain of my spaceship and a very dear friend. He's saved my life many times. I... _need_ to save him."

He doesn't tell the child that Marvelous is his lover, or try to explain what it means to Marvelous that he is Marvelous' crew. She will learn, hopefully, in her own time, how complicated the bonds between people can be.

"Please tell me truthfully." He tries to keep the pleading from his voice, because he doesn't want the girl to lie and tell him what she thinks he wants to hear. "Is it possible to save someone who's Chosen? To make them... not Chosen?"

The girl hesitates, and Joe's heart seems to die in his chest.

"Sometimes." The girl shrugs, raising a hand to touch her hair and then stopping as she sees the blood on it still. "Not often, but sometimes the Chosen can break through the river's power. Especially if they're asked to fight those they love, like their village, or if they're just contrary people to begin with."

Joe covers his mouth with his left hand as he nods, trying hard not to let anything like a sob escape.

There's a chance, then.

There's a good chance he'll be able to fix this, that this won't end up killing another man that he loves and respects.

_What is it you dream of, child of mine?_

Joe allows his eyes to drift to where the tiny creature has crept back to the girl's feet, the volume of the music increasing incrementally as she strokes it. He meets its luminous, uncomprehending eyes and watches as its tail begins wagging furiously.

A laugh escapes without his volition. What does he dream of, indeed.

He dreams of a great deal, now. He dreams of the future. He dreams of how the universe will look when all traces of the Zangyack have been washed from it. He dreams of flying forever among the stars, Marvelous and the rest of the Gokaigers at his side.

But he also still dreams of Sid. He dreams of his time in the Zangyack. He dreams of possibilities that will never be, people who will never see what he has grown into.

He dreams of killing his commander and friend, because it is the kindest thing he can do, and it is Marvelous who usually wakes him from those dreams with a kiss.

He will not let those nightmares become reality, not again.

"He's a contrary one, isn't he?" The girl's hand is on his shoulder again, and Joe knows that he's lost too much blood, is far too vulnerable, but he can't seem to bring himself to care right now. "And he's one of the Old Ones. I don't think the river will be able to keep him."

"Old Ones?" Joe squints up at the girl.

"One of the star-farers. I don't know much about them." The girl shrugs apologetically. "But I know that's why Papa and the others wanted him. They said with an Old One who fought the Zangyack at their side, there was no way that the big city people could ignore what the farms need and want."

Joe can feel a snarl twisting the edge of his mouth. Is this what they've come to, then? They defeated the Zangyack and broke the Empire only to have people squabbling over the remains in just the same way? What was the point of risking so much if—

"It wasn't the right thing to do, though, was it?" The girl bites down on her lip again, and Joe realizes after a moment that it's a mimicry of what she's watched him do. "I didn't think it was nice when the Zangyack did it to my brothers; I know you can't think it's nice to do it to your _incrociaspade_. That's why I opened the back door for you and locked it when my papa came by. I want to help."

Drawing a deep breath, Joe lets it out in a sigh. _This_. This is why he's fighting—why Marvelous and the others are fighting, under all the other reasons. They fight because they were children who managed to learn love and caring despite living in a nightmare, and if they could become what they are, steeped in a universe ruled by the Zangyack, what might the next generation of children be? "You'll help me?"

The girl nods, hesitant, still biting her bottom lip.

_I am the desert-scape, the sand inside your hourglass..._

Joe pushes himself determinedly to his feet, the calm, cool distance that always accompanies a battle plan settling over him. Even the music still trickling out of Furfur doesn't bother him now. He can do this. He can save himself and his captain. He can keep the nightmares at bay for just a little while longer. "All right, then. I'll need a drink—the biggest glass of water you can find me—and a way to send a message to our friends in the city, and as good a map of the village as you can get me—"

"And a Band-aid?" The girl holds up her bloody hand, uncertain. "Mama always put a Bandaid on anything that bled and kissed it. She said it would make it all better."

It's going to take a lot more than a piece of adhesive and a kiss to make his shoulder better. Joe is fairly certain of that, though he knows he can still fight for quite a while this way. Still... "If you have a Bandaid and a kiss, I would be honored to accept them."

The girl nods, spins on her heel, and scampers off.

XXX

The world is spinning around Joe as he walks toward the square where he will—hopefully-finish this.

He knows, of course, that the world is always spinning. If he were on the Galleon looking down on this world it would be a beautiful pattern of red and green and black and pink, unique, spinning on its axis, that axis spinning around the sun, the sun spinning in the galaxy, on and on and on.

The spinning that he is currently experiencing is probably due to dehydration and hypovolemia rather than physics, but he likes thinking about the physics more.

_This is Joe Gibken, first mate of the Gokai Galleon. Captain Marvelous has been taken by a radical political fringe. I will be taking him back. Gai, Luka, Ahim, Doc, come when you're able._

Joe looks down at the walking radio trotting at his heels. It looks up at him and whines as it repeats the message that it has transmitted to every other radio on the continent by now.

Well, at least it isn't playing that infernal song anymore. And if the noise draws others to his location, that's just as well.

He wants them to come, after all. He wants them to bring Marvelous to him, because he's taking his captain back.

This is probably not the smartest idea he's ever had. He's not sure it's even an idea so much as a desperate flail at fate. He's committed himself to it, though, and he's content with that choice.

_Let yourself bleed, leave a footprint on every island you see..._

Joe sighs. So much for the radio being distracted from playing that song. "I have already left more blood here than I ever intended to or than is really healthy for me, all right?"

The bird-dog-radio gives a little _meep_ of agreement, rear end waggling.

He does like that couplet, though, if he allows himself to think about it outside the current situation. That is what he and Marvelous have done, after all. They have gone world to world, island to island of life, and they have left bits and pieces of themselves behind. They have been changed by each world—by each person that they have acquired—and they have changed the universe in turn.

"No more bleeding here, though." Joe comes to a standstill in the position he had selected based on a child's crayon drawings and her father's census sketches. "Not today."

It doesn't take long for the people to start gathering.

They're the same ones who led him and Marvelous to the river. Joe doesn't know where the other villagers are—inside, he suspects, pretending they don't know what some of their number have done.

"Now, Mr. Joe Gibken." The leader of the group, a gray-haired man with fire-bright blue eyes, faces Joe squarely across about four meters of space. Marvelous stands at the man's side, his eyes black from edge to edge, his head tilted just slightly as he studies Joe. "Why don't we keep this nice and civil, huh?"

Joe forces himself to breathe around the unexpected stab of pain that seeing Marvelous—so still, looking at Joe as though he were a stranger or, worse, an enemy—brings. "I don't think that's possible any more."

"Sure it is." The man smiles. "You come with us, you take a little swim like your friend, the two of you help us get our world sorted out into a semblance of order now that those damn parasites are gone, and then we let you go."

"Oh really?" Joe raises one eyebrow, shaking his head to make sure his bangs stay out of his field of vision. He had let little Chiara retie his hair, and she had missed some strands. With one hand, though, there was only so much that he could help do. "You just let us go?"

"The water wears off eventually." The man hooks his thumbs into the edge of his ragged trousers. "Doesn't last more than two, three years unless it's renewed. It isn't magic, y'know. It's a little critter, tinier than anything you can see with your own eyes. A parasite or a symbiote, depending on who you ask. Doesn't hurt the host. Just makes the community more united in its goal."

Just makes some of the people into drones, and Joe wonders, briefly, if this was created along with the little walking radios. Perhaps. Perhaps not. Perhaps this was something already here, something these people lived with. Either way, his answer is the same. "No, thanks. I've been a pawn and a mindless soldier before. I don't like it much. I know he wouldn't like it much, either, and anything he doesn't like, I help him crush."

Marvelous' head tilts just slightly to the other side, and Joe can feel his heart constrict again. Is that a flicker of recognition in Marvelous' eyes?

Maybe.

Hopefully.

"And how, pray tell, do you intend to do that?" The man glances around, but Joe has been watching, and he knows that twelve other men have formed a semi-circle around him, blocking his retreat. He cannot get back into town; there is a natural bluff at his back, preventing escape out into the scrub-land surrounding the town. "You with only one arm working and looking paler than a moon's heart."

It means they can only come at him from one side. It means they will not be able to attack _en masse_. If he's right, it means they will send Marvelous after him, and that will mean (hopefully, please, if any gods exist in all the universe) that he has won. Settling into a fighting stance, keeping his right side back and raising the sword in his left hand, Joe smiles at the man across from him. "Come see how I'll do it."

He's wrong about them not daring to attack him on their own. They come at him in twos and threes, with makeshift weapons, boards and farming equipment and, for one young, nervous man, a cooking pan.

He drives them all back, his sword flitting out to draw blood from an arm here, slice along a leg there. He is by far the better fighter, even using his off hand and with his right side coated in his own blood. The little living radio dances around him, _meeping_, the music it is playing steadily increasing in volume. Joe finds his body falling into time with the pounding percussion line, and he allows it to, the music working better than his wobbling sense of balance right now to guide his feet.

There is almost a freedom in fighting like this, in using his body at the very edge of its abilities, in pushing himself and seeing how far he can go. He never falters, never loses his grip on his weapon, never missteps into an enemy blade despite how easy it would be to do so.

Sid trained him well.

He holds on to that thought as a whirlwind of red and black bears down on him as soon as the villagers have pulled back.

There is something different about the way that Marvelous fights now. He has always been fast and strong, but there is something more... graceful about his movements, less forceful but no less deadly.

In the space of ten seconds he has driven Joe back against the pale red cliff face.

"Marvelous..." Joe pants out the name, his breath rough in his throat, the world spinning faster.

Again there is a tilt of the man's head, a slight hesitation that Joe hopes means there is still a flicker of recognition there.

Their blades slide against each other, break free, and Joe just barely avoids having his jugular slit by throwing himself to the side.

He is going to have to try it.

He is going to have to go through with his plan, his silly, foolish plan concocted with a child, based on the tales that she had remembered and the scant information he had found in her father's study.

Throwing his blade aside, staying on his knees instead of rising to try again to face his captain, Joe holds his left hand out to the side and allows his right to continue dangling uselessly. "Marvelous. Choose. Them or me, because I won't be their slave."

It's a risk. It's a huge risk, assuming that Marvelous' own feelings and personality will be able to override the programming that the parasites are trying to install.

It's a risk that Joe thought he was perfectly willing to make, but his breath still catches in his throat as he watches the blade come arcing toward him through the air.

_I'm going to die._ Joe doesn't have time or energy to dodge, not this time. _He's going to kill me, and when he finally gets free that's going to kill him._

Better this, though, than being a Beserker for these people.

Better this than being any shade of what Sid became, at the end, a shell of a man, nothing left of the heart and soul that Joe followed so readily.

Better this than the alternative, and he swallows any sounds of fear and distress.

And then the blade stops.

"Joe." Marvelous' voice is choked, and black ooze mixed with blood drips down from his eyes. The sword point trembles where it stopped, scant centimeters from Joe's unprotected throat. "We are going to talk about this later. Right now, you look like hell."

A giddy smile works its way onto Joe's face, and for some reason it's all he can do to keep from breaking out into hysterical laughter. "I kind of feel like hell. Good to have you back."

There is a long pause during which Marvelous' eyes flick around their surroundings, take in the men surrounding them—half limping or clutching injuries thanks to Joe—and then settle again on Joe. "Yeah. We'll need to talk about that, too. Right now, you look like you're going to pass out. These bad guys I need to keep away from us?"

"Uh huh." Joe nods, tries to push himself up to his feet, and instead ends up stumbling forward into Marvelous. "Don't know if I'll be much help. Think I might pass out."

"Yeah, I thought so." Marvelous' arm is wonderfully tight and warm around him, though there is only gentleness in the pirate's face as he settles Joe carefully back down on the ground. "Go ahead and do that if you need to. I'll get us out of here. Promise."

It's not the kind of promise someone can really make. It assumes a knowledge of the situation that Marvelous doesn't have, an assessment of the enemies' strengths that Marvelous can't have made, and a trust in fate that no one in the Gokaigers should really have.

It's still enough of a reassurance to allow Joe to smile as darkness closes over his vision.

He has Marvelous back.

Compared to what he just faced and defeated, no other problems can even rate on the threat scale.

XXX

Joe wakes on a bed.

That's the first thing that tells him he's going to be all right.

There is a body stretched out next to him, and he doesn't need to open his eyes to recognize the contours. He does anyway, because he loves seeing Marvelous' sleeping face.

Marvelous isn't sleeping, though. He is watching Joe through slitted eyes, and he reaches out a hand to rest on Joe's chest as soon as Joe stirs. "Welcome back."

Joe tries to sit up on his elbows, feels something pull taut in his right shoulder, and decides against it. Eying the bandage job—much nicer and cleaner than the one he had done, and topped with a tiny flowered Bandaid—he decides staying flat on his back for a while is probably the best idea. "I should be saying that to you."

"You already did." Marvelous' hand skitters across Joe's chest, caressing skin and bandaging with equal reverence, until it taps the Bandaid. "You have a very concerned little nursemaid, you know."

"She's a good kid." Joe smiles as he remembers the child who helped him send his emergency message and prepare for his battle. "Reminds me of a tiny Ahim, with maybe a bit of Luka thrown in."

"Oh, now _that _would be a combination." Marvelous smiles, his body relaxing perceptibly at the mention of their crew. "They should be here soon, by the way. They got your message. They were more than a little irate when I first got in touch with them."

"Good." Joe sighs, eyes closing again. "We should never have separated. It was foolish to come here without them."

"We couldn't have known there would be people here with stupid ideas." A feral look of anger flashes across Marvelous' face and is pushed aside. "They're in custody right now. I didn't kill them. Partly 'cause that little walking radio and the girl who owns him got in the way."

Joe tenses, and then forces his body to relax one muscle group at a time. "Probably for the best. They were stupid but not evil, I don't think. Just doing what they thought they had to—and doing it in the worst way possible."

"Doing what they've seen done all their lives. Not that it's a good excuse." Another grimace crosses Marvelous' face, and Joe wonders exactly how close to killing the men he came. "As if the Gokaigers have anything to do with local politics."

"It's not just that you're a Gokaiger, though." Joe frowns, reaching up with his left hand to snag Marvelous' hand. "There was something about you being an... Ancient One or Old One or something..."

"Ah, that bit of foolishness." Marvelous sits up, his fingers tightening around Joe's. "I don't know how they figured out what I am—it's not like I broadcast it, and we look pretty standard."

"So you _are_ a..." Joe lets the question trail off as Marvelous looks away.

After a few seconds Marvelous finally speaks. "I was born one of the original space-farers—the nomads who moved star to star and space to space, trading and doing odd jobs and just... living. Some peoples hated them, like the Zangyack who wiped them out; some loved and almost worshiped them. But me... I barley got a chance to know them. I only have fragmented memories of my life with them. I might have their genes, but I'm not one of them. So I don't pretend to be."

"Marvelous..." Stretching out his left arm, Joe manages to touch his fingertips to Marvelous' face.

Marvelous leans into the touch, smiling. "Don't worry. It's old wounds. And I've already passed on the best things I remember from them to the rest of the crew, so... I've done my bit. But I'd prefer not to talk about... mostly because I don't have much to talk about."

"Fair enough." There are parts of Joe's past that Marvelous doesn't know. He will trust Marvelous to give him what is important, when he is ready.

_It's a long road down the river deep and wild..._

"Oh no." Joe groans as the song starts again. "Why is it in here?"

"It's been coming to check on you every ten minutes or so." Marvelous reaches down to scratch the creature under the chin. "I think it's fond of you. A little bit strange, though, how it only wants to play the one song for you. It must think you like it."

"I will soon because the alternative will be madness." Joe dangles his fingers over the edge of the bed for the creature to snuffle at.

"It's not a bad song. The river of our lives has been long, deep and wild, after all." Marvelous continues to hang over the side of the bed, in only his black pants, to pet the creature. A myriad of bruises stand out on his skin, but he is still the most beautiful sight Joe has ever seen.

"Hey, Captain." Joe raises his right leg slightly, jarring Marvelous. "I don't suppose you'd want to try waking me with a kiss?"

Marvelous sits up. "It looks to me like you're already awake."

"Nope." Joe smiles. "I'm pretty sure I'm seeing images of angels, which means I'm in a—

The volume on the song suddenly increases, and Joe realizes that along with _scream _one of the singers is saying _dream_.

"Yes." Joe waggles his fingers again as the volume decreases back to a non-ear-splitting level. "Thank you, Furfur. A dream."

Marvelous laughs, a slow, steady build of mirth that is glorious to watch.

Then he leans forward, pressing his mouth to Joe's. It is a drawn-out, gentle kiss that deepens steadily, and by the end of it Joe is light-headed again.

Marvelous' fingers trace Joe's cheek. "Don't ever do that again. Don't ever risk yourself on the chance I'll break some stupid brainwashing."

"Don't ever get brainwashed again." Joe breathes the command into Marvelous' mouth. "It makes me do foolish things."

"What if I was like Sid?" Marvelous pulls back, and there is fear deep in his beautiful brown eyes. "What if there wasn't enough of _me_ to stop it?"

"I wasn't stupid. I looked into it. I knew there was a chance." Joe raises his hand, tangling it in Marvelous' hair and pulling Marvelous back down to his level. "You were worth that chance."

"Maybe." Marvelous' lips brush Joe's again, a fluttering barely-there kiss. "Still, you are _not _to do it again."

"Is that an order, Captain?" Joe steals another soft kiss.

"It's a request. Because I couldn't..." Marvelous' mouth claims his, sudden, hard, possessive. Frightened. He pulls back a few centimeters, licking his lips. "I _couldn't_, Joe."

"You could. You could do anything you have to do." Joe has seen Marvelous shred boundaries. He has utmost faith in his captain to do what needs to be done. "But I won't let it happen again. Deal?"

Marvelous nods, a jerky movement. "Deal."

"Does that mean you'll come kiss me again?"

Marvelous doesn't answer in words. Instead he carefully straddles Joe, his knees supporting his weight on either side of Joe, and buries his hands in Joe's hair, tilting his head back just slightly, and—

"Joe! Marvelous!" The door explodes inward, and the Earthling follows before skidding to a half and abruptly turning around. "Ah. I see you're both feeling better."

This time it's Marvelous' turn to sigh. "We're both fine."

"Oh. Good. Because we're here to help, if there's anything you need us to do." Gai sneaks a peek over his shoulder, a grin splitting his face with mirth before he turns back around and clears his throat.

"Ahim?" Joe makes the suggestion in a quiet whisper.

"Ah." Marvelous nods. "If Ahim and the rest of you would be so kind as to talk to the people currently detained in the second house on main street and figure out what to _do_ with them, that would be wonderful. Because I still want to stab them whenever I see them."

"Yeah, that's not very good diplomacy." Gai's whole body seems to vibrate with his nod. "We'll do that. Though I can't guarantee Luka won't want to stab them too. Or really the rest of us. 'Cause this was pretty terrible, luring you out here and trying to—"

"Gai."

"Right. You probably want to get back to what you were doing." Gai's shoulders shake with near-silent laughter. "We've got the bad guys under control. One question, though. Do I get to share this part of the incident with all the people on Earth who'll want to hear about our latest adventure, since I'm sure some would be interested, or—"

A pillow thrown by Marvelous finally drives the Earthling from the room.

"You know that there are children—"

_Beautifully shy as you are, never lose your heart, and do come across!_

"And small creatures as well as the rest of our crew who are going to just keep interrupting us." Joe allows the radio to nuzzle him again, causing the music volume to decrease to almost inaudible levels.

"Yeah, I know." Marvelous smiles as he reclaims his position, his lips barely separated from Joe's. "I'm still going to kiss you senseless. Acceptable?"

"I think I can allow that."

Joe does, closing his eyes, allowing himself to sink into the glorious embrace of his _incrociaspade_, the two of them finally back where they belong.

With each other.

With their crew.

With their dreams and the universe spread out before them, a thousand islands for them to bleed footprints on.

It's more than he ever would have known to ask from the universe, and everything he's ever needed.

It is, for a few minutes at least, absolutely perfect.


End file.
